The Wearing of the Green
by Ryan Phelan
Summary: The Turtles and their friends celebrate St. Patrick's Day!  Just a silly little one-shot that popped into my head.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT, or St. Patrick's Day. As you might have guessed from my name, I'm Irish. ****I didn't raise a pint in celebration this year and I kinda regret it, so to make up for it I thought I'd pay tribute to my heritage with this short silly little story, basing April's family on my own. Hope you like!**

The Wearing of the Green

"HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!" Five voices chorused as April O'Neil opened the door to her apartment.

April smiled. "And a Happy St. Patrick's Day to you," she said, stepping back to allow her guests inside. One by one four mutant turtles and one human filed past her.

"Looking good, April," Michelangelo remarked as he looked her over. Indeed, today April looked as green as her mutant friends with a green turtleneck sweater, green shirt, and a pair of glittering green shoes. Pinned to her chest was a small golden shamrock, and a diamond and emerald bracelet adorned her wrist.

"Thanks," April replied. "I know I overdid it, but St. Patrick's Day was always a big deal in my family. Now that my parents have retired and moved to Florida, I guess I feel like I have to do the celebrating for all of us."

"Hey, ya still got us," Casey said. He was wearing a white Irish knit sweater and a big pin that said KISS ME I'M IRISH. He leaned forward. "So, how about a kiss for your favorite Irishman, my little leprechaun?"

"Nice try, Mr. JONES," April said, gently pushing him away with one hand.

"Come on, Lassie, everyone's Irish on St. Paddy's Day," Casey said in a mangled Irish brogue. He looked around at everyone's pained expressions. "What?"

"Hey, where's Splinter?" April asked, suddenly noticing they were one mutant short. "Didn't he want to come?"

"Sorry, April, but Master Splinter's off being one with the trees or something like that," Mike said.

"What Mikey means is that Master Splinter is on his annual retreat," Leo said. "Every year around this time he goes to the woods for a week of mental and spiritual cleansing, meditation and reflection."

"His loss," Raphael said, inhaling deeply. "Whatever we're having for lunch smells delicious."

"Homemade beef stew and cornbread, courtesy of Grandma O'Neil," April said. "It's a family recipe that's been handed down for generations. We used to go over to Grandma's every Sunday night for dinner, right after evening mass."

"Is your grandma in any of these pictures?" Don asked. He was looking at the framed black-and-white photos that lined the wall.

"That's her right there," April said, pointing to a photo of a young woman walking arm and arm with a young man along a boardwalk. "And that's my grandfather. This photo was taken during their honeymoon in Atlantic City."

"Who's this guy?" Leo asked, pointing to another photo of a man in uniform.

"That's my great-uncle Thomas," April said. "He was a firefighter in Queens for twenty years."

"No kidding?" Casey said. "My great-uncle was a fireman too! Which firehouse was 'ol Uncle Tom in?"

"Beats me," April sighed. "I only know bits and pieces of my family's history. I keep meaning to sit down and put together a family tree, but I never get around to it."

"Why not?" Don asked.

"Oh, I've been busy. I have to run the antique store…when I'm not being chased by evil ninjas or sucked into a parallel universe."

"Well, what do you know?" Raphael asked.

"I know that my great-grandparents on both sides of the family immigrated to New York around the turn of the century. I still have distant relatives back in Ireland; they're my grandma's cousins and they live on a dairy farm in the north, I forget which county…anyway, back to New York. A lot of the men in my family were policemen and firemen back in the '40s and '50s. A couple of the women went on to be nuns, but for the most part they were housewives." April paused. "Oh yeah, and I had a great-great grandfather who was a horse jockey in England. Or was it my great-grandfather?"

"Geez, April, you know more about Britney Spears than you do about your own family. It's pathetic!" Raph snapped.

"Hey, ease up Raph," Casey said. "It's not that big a deal."

"You would say that," Raph snorted. "All you care about is your motorcycle and how to get into April's…"

"Raph!" Leo said.

"…good graces," Raph said, glaring at his older brother.

"Guys, the parade starts in forty five minutes," Don said quickly. "We'd better eat now so we have time to go grab a good spot."

"Don's right," April said. "You guys sit down and I'll get lunch." She disappeared into the kitchen. Leo, Raph and Casey exchanged dirty looks, then moved to the table and sat down.

> > > > >

If there were any hard feelings, they had vanished by the time they reached the parade. The turtles, April and Casey quickly got caught up in the festivities; they clapped and cheered along with the crowd as the floats and marching bands went by.

"Look at them," Leo said as he admired the Irish dancers. "That must require a lot of training and discipline."

"Yeah, maybe you should ask Master Splinter to add Irish dancing to our workouts," Mike joked.

"Don't give him ideas!" Raph said as he gave Mike a smack upside the head.

A college kid staggered up to the turtles. "DUDES! You are like, so into the spirit of St. Patrick's Day! MATT! TED! GET OVER HERE!" He called over his shoulder.

Two other young men pushed their way through the crowd and stopped in front of the turtles. "Whoa…" one said looking right at Don, who winced at the smell of alcohol on the kid's breath. "You are sooo coool. You need to take a shot." He waved a paper bag in the turtle's face.

"No thanks," Don said, pushing it away.

"Sssuit yourssself," the young man slurred. He and his friends disappeared back into the crowd.

"Is it just me, or are a lot of people here intoxicated?" Don asked.

"It's definitely not you, Don," Leo said. "It's like they're using St. Patrick's Day as an excuse to get drunk."

"Some people do," April sighed. "It's a long standing stereotype that all Irish are drunks. Even with all of its rich culture, that's what most people think of when they think of Ireland!"

"Stereotypes exist in every culture, April," Casey said. "People think just because I'm Italian I'm some big dumb mafia goon. It never occurs to them that I went to college!"

"You did?" April said, unable to hide her surprise.

"Yes I did," Casey huffed. "I went to Brooklyn Community College. Okay, so it was only for one semester, but the point is, I went!"

A pair of young women approached Michelangelo and Raphael. "Wow, you guys are like, the greenest guys I've ever seen!" One giggled.

"You must really love being Irish," her friend said. "Mind if we give you a kiss for good luck?"

"Well, we're not exactly…" Raphael began, but Michelangelo quickly covered his mouth.

"Sure. Go nuts!" Mike exclaimed. The girls giggled and planted a kiss on each turtle's cheek. Grinning broadly, Mike waved goodbye to the girls as they walked away, still giggling. "I just love Saint Patrick's Day, don't you Raph?"

"Sure. Whatever," Raph grumbled.

> > > > >

That night Michelangelo sat on the couch in the lair, shoving leftover green cookies into his mouth. "I said it before and I'll say it again. I love Saint Patrick's Day!"

"Geez, Mikey, if you love it so much why don't you marry it?" Raph snapped.

"What is your problem, Raph?" Leo snapped. "You've been in a lousy mood all day!"

"More so than usual," Don added. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Raph snapped.

"It is not nothing!" Leo insisted. "You've never talked to April the way you did at her apartment this afternoon! Now tell us what's going on!"

Raph started to protest, but the look on Leo's face said he wasn't going to let it go. "Fine. If you must know, it bugs me how April and Casey take things for granted sometimes. Things that we could never have, like a…" he paused, afraid for a minute of sounding stupid. "…past."

"Huh?" Mike said, his face screwed up in confusion.

"A family history. Roots. Heritage," Raph elaborated. "In our case, we went from being dumb animals to…this…overnight. We don't have a past like they do. And you know we ain't having any descendants. When we all die, whatever we have dies with us."

"That's not true, Raph," Leo said, his face softening. "We're ninjas. We're part of a thousand years of history and culture."

"And Master Yoshi is kinda like our grandfather," Mike said. "So that makes us Japanese-Ninja-Reptilian-Americans."

"I guess," Raph mumbled. "But it's not the same. Can we drop this now? I'm tired." He got up and went into his bedroom.

"I think I'll turn in too," Don said. Leo murmured in agreement and retired as well. Only Michelangelo remained. He sat on the couch, absently stoking Klunk. The lair was silent except for the sounds of Klunk's purrs and the wheels turning in Mikey's head (they seldom moved so they were pretty squeaky).

> > > > >

A few days later Master Splinter came home and life in the lair went back to normal, until late one night when a mysterious figure crept into the common area clutching a large paper bag. Under the cover of darkness he went about his work.

"Won't they be surprised," he chuckled to himself.

Sure enough, Master Splinter and his sons were very surprised when they emerged from their bedrooms the next morning. The entire lair had been decorated with streamers and balloons. A large banner hung from the ceiling that read…

"HAPPY NINJA DAY!" Mike yelled.

His father and brothers stood stunned for a moment. It was Master Splinter who first found his tongue. "My son…what is all of this?"

"I was thinking about what Raph said, about how our family history isn't the same as April or Casey's. I figured out what was missing…our very own holiday!"

"You actually invented a holiday for ninjas," Leo blinked.

"Yeah! Everyone else has a holiday that celebrates their culture, so why not us? I made sushi and cookies shaped like throwing stars, and later we can play games like Pin the Sai on the Purple Dragon and Trivial Pursuit Ninja Edition…"

"There's no Ninja Edition of Trivial Pursuit," Don said.

"There is now," Mike smiled. "I modified the version we have using Leo's books on Ninjitsu. And we'll top off the day with a Bruce Lee marathon!"

Don was about to point out that Bruce Lee wasn't Japanese or a ninja, but the proud look on his little brother's face changed his mind. "That's great, Mikey. All of this is great."

"I have to admit, this is pretty cool," Leo said.

"Well done, my son," Splinter said. "Paying tribute to your proud ninja heritage is a noble endeavor."

"Great! So…since it's a holiday, can we skip ninja training today?" Mike asked hopefully.

"I cannot think of a better way to pay tribute to our proud ninja heritage than by putting in extra training sessions," Splinter said. Mike's face fell.

"Or perhaps we will take a half day off since it is, as you pointed out, a holiday," Splinter added with a twinkle in his eye.

Mike's face lit up again. "Thanks, Sensei, you're the best!" He then turned to Raphael. "Well Raph, you're the only one who hasn't said anything. What do you think?"

Raph looked around the lair, taking it all in. "You know, Mikey, you've come up with some pretty idiotic ideas in the past…but as far as idiotic ideas go, this one's not half bad."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Mike said.

"Happy Ninja Day, Idiot," Raph grinned. "Now let's eat."

THE END


End file.
